


in that sort of way

by zeldaring



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: 5 + 1 Things, Fluff, M/M, except it's actually 4, kind of crack, like melodramatic angst, unreasonably and unjustifiably long
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-26
Updated: 2017-02-26
Packaged: 2018-09-27 01:41:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9944774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zeldaring/pseuds/zeldaring
Summary: This is all my fault.” Kageyama muffles from behind his hand, face heating up.“Well, obviously.” Tsukishima grunts, “I don’t think anyone else could make Hinata act that strangely. And this is weird, even for Hinata.”Noya tugs desperately at Kageyama’s sleeve, on his tip toes so he can shout in Kageyema’s face. “Can you make him stop? Please? Before Asahi sees and cries?”Kageyama sighs defeatedly, dropping his hands and hanging his head in shame. “I wish I knew how.” he declares lamely.The three continue to stare at Hinata, his mouth now sliding over the tip of the water bottle, humming lightly.Or4 times Hinata tries to prove that he can be seen 'in-that-kinda-way', and the onetime he didn't need too.





	

**Author's Note:**

> this took me almost a YEAR to finish and publish. what the actual fuck. 
> 
> I mean, it's still trash, it's super dumb, it's a whole story of hinata trying to prove he's SexyTM and failing miserably, based on conversations me and my best friend had all the way back in April 2016.   
> yikes. 
> 
> well anyways enjoy my dudes

**_before._ **

 

The question sits on his tongue, pursed there between short breaths. It’s been there, for a while, if 

Hinata is 100% honest. This isn’t a spur of the moment kind of question, it’s something that’s sat at the back of his mind, festering like a dark figure.

 

And now, as he walks (more like skips to try and keep up) next to Kageyama, the late autumn sun beaming down fainlty on their backs, he decides now might be a good time. 

 

So, through one last big breath, he finally puffs out the words that he’s been holding. 

 

“Do you ever think of me?” Kageyama glares down at him, cocking his head slightly. Hinata grips the strap of his rucksack like it’s a life line and feels the palms of his hands clam. 

  
“What do you mean? Of course I do.” Kageyama’s eyes are slitted, and his mouth is thinned, “How can I not ever think about you? You’re constantly around me.” He then looks forward again, and Hinata bites down on his lip. He could leave it there, just let it trail off. But he needs to know, like he _has_ to know. He’s never needed to know anything more in his life before and he can’t stand not knowing.

 

So, he tries again.

 

“No like, do you ever _think_ of me.” Kageyama stares blankly again, face crunching in irritation. “like, when you’re alone think of me.” And then the creases on his face smooth out, realisation washing over him like a tidal wave. He turns his head away from Hinata like an instinctive reflex, shoving his hands deep into his pockets.

 

“Don’t ask things like that, dumbass Hinata.” And then he’s speeding ahead, leaving Hinata in a small cloud of dust and confusion. He quickens his own pace, not wanting to give Kageyama the chance to somehow transfigure the conversation into a race. 

 

“Hey! Why not? I have a right to know!” Kageyama still refuses to look at him, eyes pinned to the floor. 

 

Kageyama’s outburst had been anticipated, as he was never one to want to talk about anything, let alone this sort of thing. But then again, Hinata wasn’t one to give up, and he was mentally prepared for the continuous string of stubbiness they where bound to get wound up in. Kageyama stays silent, face hidden by the dark fibres of his hair. “we’re not talking about this.” he states flatly. However, Hinata can just about feel the tremble of Kageyama’s voice in the still autumn air and he knows he can break him, he knows he can’t ignore him forever.

 

“Why not?”

 

“Because I say so, dumbass.”

 

“Are you scared, or something?” Kageyama stops in his tracks, finally lifting his head to release the brooding storm settling across his face. 

 

“ _What?_ ” he hisses. 

 

“Are you afraid of talking about, you know, this sort of thing.” Hinata tries to not to falter under the darkness of Kageyama’s glare but ok he’s only human and 5’3, and Kageyama is terrifying. 

 

“No!” The shrillness of Kageyama’s voice defuses the tension, slightly. Ever so, _ever so_ slightly. 

“It’s just,” then he’s turning away again and that same overly exhilarated pace returns. “it feels wrong.”

 

“What does?”

 

“Thinking of you, like…like that.” Now it’s Hinata’s turn to look annoyed. 

 

“What, why does it feel wrong?” Kageyama’s grasping at his own rucksack now, visibly uncomfortable. His height only seems to add to his awkwardness, making him seem lanky and graceless as he struggles under the weight of this context. Still scary as heck though, Hinata notes. 

 

‘Because you’re so…” he looks Hinata up and down, and then finally spits it out. “innocent.” 

 

Hinata frowns, pulling back as if there was a physical blow. Because, uhm, excuse me? Innocent? Hinata was not innocent. They where both inexperienced, both unprepared and there was no way Kageyama was trying to imply that he was on a different level to him, somehow. 

 

Kageyama turns back, and sighs, “Don’t look at me like that, Hinata.”

 

“Innocent?” he hisses, “what do you mean ‘innocent’? I am not innocent.”

 

“Yes, yes you are. Incredibly.” Hinata feels heat pool in his chest, lighting his cheeks like flames and passing through his nerves. “No I’m not!” Kageyama watches him for a second, observing the flickering pink that laps at Hinata’s face. Then he smirks.

 

“Say sex.” 

 

Hinata blinks, and _oh no_ his cheeks are definitely heating up even more. “what?” he just about mangages to pass, through trembling lips.

 

“Just say it, say it out loud.” Hinata splutters again, his head trouncing violently to drink in their surroundings. They’re alone, only trees bare witness to the kind of things Kageyama is saying oh so casually. 

 

“what- why does that prove anything?” Hinata’s voice gurgles in a high pitch squeak and Kageyama’s smirk seems to grow infectiously. “this is exactly what I mean, dumbass.” Then he’s walking, again. “You’re too innocent for that kind of thing, and I’m not going to push you” His face goes serious for a minute, studying Hinata’s features. And Hinata can’t help but resent that weird essence of care that etches itself in kageyama’s voice, and the gentle touch of Kageyama’s hand ghosting Hinata’s shoulder. “when you’re ready, you’re ready.” And then the soft touch has gone from his shoulder, as if Kageyama was stroking fire, and the concern sets into embarrassment and then Kageyama is facing forward again. He’s still frowning, though, through this whole entire thing.

“thIS LITERALLY PROVES NOTHING.” Hinata wishes he could control the emotion in his voice, along with the sheer volume, but it escapes his throat in bubbles of frustration. Kageyama doesn’t even turn, just keeps walking. 

 

And he watches him, Hinata’s eyes narrowing. He shakes a little on the spot, annoyed and frustrated. 

 

Kageyama thinks he’s innocent? Well, we’ll just see about that. 

 

**_I_ **

 

It starts the following Monday. When rain heaves heavy and forecful against the roof the school, loud and bellowing with no sign of easing up. Hinata watches rain crash against the window violently, the glass making loud tapping noises as it takes the impact. He chews on his pencil absentmindedly and continues to stare. It was calculus, and calculus was boning, and for some unknown reason the calculus teacher let Hinata sit by the window. Most insisted he sat at the front, so they could snap at him for constantly jiggling and zoning out.  However it was more than possible that the calculus teacher had lost the will to live anyways, and so whatever Hinata can sit by the window who cares anymore. 

 

And so he watches the rain, and ever since last Saturday evening, when the sun had stained Kageyama’s face and his accusations hit him like a truck, Hinata had felt an itch. It was like a fire in his blood, keeping him from sitting still and being able to focus on anything but stupid Kageyama and his stupid words.

 

_Innocent._

 

It pricked like an insult, and it left a dull ache like one too. He felt wounded by it, and maybe just a little humiliated. Or very humiliated, and very, _very_ young. Which was fricking dumb because Hinata was older than Kageyama— which should mean, if anything, Kageyama was the innocent one. Yet Hinata felt himself laced to the identity of innocence, he felt like the label was stuck to his head like a posted note. 

 

And it made him mad, because he wasn’t innocent he knew about those— sort of things— and he wanted to do those sort of things too— Kageyama wasn’t special. Kageyama wasn’t in on some secret that Hinata wasn’t— he knew about that sort of stuff too, he was the one who’d dragged a confession out of Kageyama anyways. Kageyama wasn’t even 16 yet— in most countries he’s not even legal. 

 

Hinata slumps further in his chair, sucking on the end of his pencil harshly. He watches the rain again, tense. And then the bell goes and Hinata almost wants to scip practice, to just cycle home in the rain and go because Kageyama obviously wouldn’t care where he was  because he’s too innocent for him and to an extension probably too innocent to toss to or something.

 

And maybe that thought was a little childish but whatever, he’s pissed off. Hinata finds himself  mumbling about Kageyama incoherently when he feels the heavy splash on his back, and he looks over his shoulder at the ending stretch of canopy. His body is totally and utterly exposed to the rain, which comes down on him harsh and heavy. He goes to grab his blazer tighter around his shoulders, only to find his fingers brush against the soaked material of his school shirt. He spins and clasps at his back, and his face pales at his mistake.

His blazer, and his school bag, where still in his seat. He had literally just sauntered out of the classroom and into the rain in a haze of agrivation, leaving everything. He grits his teeth  and kicks at the squelching mud under his shoes.

 

Fantastic, now he’s soaked through with no spair clothes after practice. And as another harsh splash hits his back coldly, an idea cracks through his body with it. 

 

He blinks, ever the optimist, Hinata finds himself grinning. 

 

Because he has an idea, and it’s genius. So, he stands up straight, and strolls through the rain, ignited by the heat that stirs in his stomach, underwhelmed by the icy touch of the rain. It’s like a new found confidence- because Hinata Shouyou was a genius.

 

This was a perfect opportunity, he finds himself thinking as rain seaps into his shoes, to show Kageyama that Hinata was far from innocent. 

 

Because Hinata had seen the Japanese dub of the movie ‘Thor’, and was an avid follower of any super hero based programme. And he had watched, mouth slightly parted and tong twitching gently, _that scene_. The scene where the actor of Thor, all serious and glistening muscles, had pulled that white soaked shirt over his head after having to jump in cave water for some reason. And Jane, her eyes wide and face twisting in flustered confusion, had eyed the sight of skin sticking to clinging fabric.

(Jane being Thor’s girlfriend, of course.)

And Hinata felt some sort of proudness at the heavy feeling of his own school shirt, and the thickness of his hair soaked with water. 

 

Oh Kageyama was going to eat his words, because Hinata had just found out that he harnessed the seductive powers of Thor- because he’d seen that scene at least four times. 

He totally knew what he was doing. He would stroll in, shake his head free of rain droplets that slipped down his neck in slow motion, and then dramatically peel of his school shirt. His sort-of-forming abs would be coated in gleaming water, and the shirt would glide off, caressing the exposed, sleek skin.

It would make Kageyama look at him differently— would make him see more than just some dumb little boy. He’d see— he’d see someone worth thinking of in _that sort of way_ , that’s for sure. 

 

So confidence still pumping through his veins, Hinata throws the club door open, trying not to flinch at the sound of it recoiling against the wall.

 

Everyone turned to look at him, a bit startled by the abruptness of his entrance. And then Hinata remembered that the rest of his teammates existed, too.

 

But nope he’s already decided that he’s going to do this. He tries to walk as assuredly as possible- like Thor would— and tries not too fiddle with his locker for too long. But his fingers are slippery and the need to prove Kageyama wrong had formed like a wall in his mind, blocking out any other thought— including the combination of his locker.

 

“Need any help with that?” Hinata tried not to yelp at the sound of Kageyama’s voice behind him, prickling his already burning neck. He shoots him a look, which he hopes emobdies strength and stability, before stating “no thank you, Kageyama- _kun_ , I’m good.” He could feel the coldness of Kageyama’s glare on the back of his neck as he tries to remember how to properly function. 

There’a tense stillness in the locker room. He could almost hear the look that Suga gives Daichi, and the atmosphere and Kageyama’s eyes and everyone else's curious inconspicuous gazes were beginning to chill the fire in his stomach. 

 

But he’d gone this far, he had too keep going. Got to show Kageyama that he’s worth liking. 

_If he could just open his dam locker._

 

Hinata pulls helplessly at it, fingers now just mushing and sliding over it’s handle. And then his body is nocked out of the way gently, with a hand on his hip edging him out with a little force. He looks up, and Kageyama is muttering under his breath. 

“the combination is 6-7-8-9.” he states blandly, and then his eyes are bearing harshly into his, “idiot Shouyou.” The words linger in the air, icy, before Kageyama is back over at his locker pushing his kit bag back into it.

 

Hinata blinked. He’d called him Shouyou. In front of everyone.

 

Kageyama Tobio had literally just called him Shouyou. _For the first time._

 

And okay yeah Kageyama defiantly deserved Hinata’s embarrassingly seductive display that was about to go down— because there’s no way it’s fair for him to make him feel that flustered in front of everyone else. 

 

“Why are you soaked?” Noya asks, pulling his own gym shirt over his head. Hinata fiddles with the zip of his bag and shrugs, “left my blazer in my classroom.” He hears Kageyama make an exasperated noise from his own corner again and oh boy is he about to get it. 

 

Hinata struggles with his gym bags zip for a few seconds, takes a deep breath, and then begins.

He first starts by running his hand through the jolts of red hair, slick between his fingers. He yanks them through the knots, trying not to wince in pain, and then flicks his head back in a dramatic like fashion. One of his longer locks smacks against Noya’s arm who flinches at the contact. “Ouch! careful.” Hinata rushes his head in a flush. “sorry.” It’s cool, one mistake. That’s fine— it probably didn’t take Thor’s actor first time to nail it, either.

 

He can literally feel the eyes of others homing down on him, however, and Hinata decides not too check too see if Kageyama’s watching because he might die if he is. So he fiddles nervously at his shirt buttons, and then he’s going to do it. 

 

 Hinata’s fingers trace the edges of his shirt, teasingly, and keeps his eyes closed. He toys at the fabric, slowly digging fingers into the wet shirt and slowly hitches it up. The air hits his bare torso as he continues to slowly peel off the shirt, and he can feel it sitting over his head as inch by inch it’s stripped off his skin. If his skin felt cold, it probably meant it was wet, hopefully glistening in that oily like way Thor’s did. He tried to keep his breath steady, hyper aware of his exposed muscles and beginning of abdomen, and this was torturously slow. He hoped Kageyama was coming undone at the seems. 

 

And then suddenly his shirt stiffened, and he felt it collapse over his head. Hinata gave it a proper tug this time, feeling the exposure of his arms as well. His tug was harsh, and he’s opening his eyes to be surrounded by dulled white. He frowns, tugs again, and still nothing.

 

Fantastic, he was stuck.

 

The first thing to do was not too panic, and not too let on your stuck. Everyone’s eyes suddenly weighed heavy on his exposed skin, and his heart sped up as he knotted fingers desperately at the hem of his shirt. It really wasn’t budging, and it clung like chains around his wrists from where he’d forgotten to undo the cuffs. So he just sort of stands there, trying to fight his own shirt, with probably everyone watching by now. 

 

A few aggravated sounds escape his lips and he’s growling in frustration, maybe slightly panicked, because the shirt was cuckooning around his face now. He was literally sucking in cumbersome, sodden shirt with oxygen hardening around him. And Hinata was ironically going to be drowned in fabric, die because he can’t get his shirt off. 

“Hinata…” He turns, not that he can see anything through the stupid shirt, towards the voice. It hesitates for a second, and then continues. “are…. you ok?” He feels his lungs heave as the remaining oxygen slip away, and panic is replacing confidence pretty fast right now.

 

“I’m stuck.” his voice comes out sharp, yet still some how defeated. Hinata frails around again, this time less rationally. “I can’t get out.” he yelps this time. “it’s ok, don’t panic. Just try and hold still.” Suga sounds calm, and he feels his fingers grasp around his collar. Hinata’s sure that Tsukishima is sniggering in the corse, distant background. And then suddenly, with a huge gulp of breath, Hinata is freed from the prison of cotton.

 

His lungs drink in the oxygen and he clasps his sides, Suga recoiling at the force with Hinata’s shirt clutched tightly in his fists. Hinata can’t help but gasp loudly, relieved, and slump onto the bench. 

He’ll live too see another day. 

 

And then Kageyama’s face is in front of his, and he’s breathing hot breath right into Kageyama’s turned lips. Kageyama places a hand tentatively on Hinata’s face, steadying him as he scrutinises Hinata’s red face. 

 

“You dumbass.” he spits, “our school shirts have buttons for a reason.” Hinata’s breath is rationalising now, and he’s looking devoid. But Hinata can’t help but feel bitter, because Kageyama was frowning and looking like he was about to throttle Hinata once his breath was back

and yet he some how looked hot. What. The. Heck. 

“are you ok?” Kageyama sounds on edge, but a little less murderous than before. Hinata’s hands phantom around his throat, feeling the tightness of his collar, and then nods. 

Kageyama stands up straight, looks away and then mutters a hasty “good”.

“well then,” Daichi’s begins warily, “now that… what ever that was is over, lets get to practice.” 

Hinata dives his head into his kit bag, and vows to himself he’s never surfacing from it, ever. 

 

*

Ok, so the first time hadn’t gone to plan. But it hadn’t not gone to plan either. 

 

The rain did not cease and, if anything, only got harder, as practiced dragged on. Hinata was reluctantly about to pull back on sodden clothes when Kageyama hand shot out, stopping him. 

 

“Come to my house,” he had commanded, 

 

“we have a tumble dryer.” 

 

“It’s a lot closer than yours” 

 

“my mum can drive you home when she’s back.”

 

 All emotionless commands, yet they kept hitting Hinata in the face like bricks. 

 

And so he did go to Kageyama’s house, and as they waited for his mothers cars headlights to pull in they sat on Kageyama’s bed. And suddenly their homework was scattered on the floor and Kageyama was gently kissing him, tentatively, a steady kiss. And maybe, for like the second time in their month long relationship, Kageyama had allowed the kiss to go a little deeper. He allowed Hinata to dip his tongue experimentally into Kageyama’s mouth, tracing the curves of his mouth like pencil to paper. And maybe, maybe, just possibly maybe, Kageyama had shuddered.

 

And then it was over and he was just sitting between Kageyama’s legs, admiring the dust of pink of Kageyama’s cheeks as he stiffened. Then he was pushed from his lap and his mother was pulling in and all too soon Hinata was shuffling out of the sweatshirt and joggers kageyama had given him and pulling his now dry school uniform back over his head.

Kageyama’s mother waited for him, patiently, in the kitchen, talking lowly and hushed to Kageyama as Hinata struggled in the bathroom with the button on his trousers. 

 

Oh how he missed the over whelming sent and pooling fabric the next morning, his own pyjamas feeling weirdly alien and close after experiencing that gentle caress of oversized clothing. But he does wake up determined. 

 

He’s walking down the corridor now, his mind replaying the scene in his head. He sniffs a little, trying to supress a few pathetic coughs that threatened to escape. Kageyama was right, he was an idiot, and he deffinantly had caught a cold from yesterdays’ shinanigans. He’s rubbing his nose as the thought creeps up on him. He wonders what would have happened, in some crazy different universe where Kageyama actually found Hinata attractive in that sort of way, if he’d shifted himself further onto Kageyama’s lap. Would he- would he have felt, something? Like was Kageyama responding to their kiss last night, would he have felt something graze his stomach if he’d leaned in a little further?

Hinata ducks his head down low and sucks in a breath, horrified that someone in the corridor might hear his thoughts (somehow) and would worse tell Kageyama.

 

Would Kageyama be disgusted in Hinata, if he realsied what he was up too. Because Kageyama was acting like Hinata disgusted him- at least physically. Was that possible? To date someone, but be physically repulsed by them? Because Hinata couldn’t help but feel that’s this is what’s going on here, which just sucks. 

 

Steady hands slam into his shoulders, roughly pulling him to the side. He yelps as he’s forced behind a row of lockers, and silenced by a small hand.

 

“Quite, Shouyou.” Noya whispers in his ear, his eyes sparkling with some sort of frill. Hinata blinks and tries not to breathe too hard, as if he’d some how unsettle the none existent silence. The corridor was busy, packed, with trailing bodies- yet Noya was acting as if they sat in exposed, empty enemy territory. Hinata gives him a quizzing look, and Noya crushes Hinata’s cheeks with his hands and points his head to look in another direction. 

 

“Ryuu is asking out a pretty girl” Noya almost breathes, and Hinata stares absorbed. And there, as Noya had promised, stood Tanaka fidgting nervously by a locker. His hands seem to be strangling bunches of his jacket, and his eye’s flickering around. 

 

“She has the locker next to his,” Noya explains, “and today’s the day.” His chest puffs out a little and he lets his hands drop from Hinata’s cheeks. Hinata stares on, waiting to be tought by his senpais.

 

Because if anyone had truly mastered the art of seduction, it was his senpai Noya and Tanaka. 

“Is he really, Noya?” Hinata whsipers excitedly, and then Noya’s hand is gripping his elbow tensly. “look” Noya rasps.

 

A girl, with mid length blonde hair and a kind looking face sanders over to the locker, not paying much attention to the whithering Tanaka by her side. She doesn’t even eye him curiously, long fingers just dance over the lockers key pad as Tanaka continues to gape. 

 

“Go on,” Noya urges, finger nails digging into Hinata’s shirt. Hinata’s eyes widen as Tanaka’s lips seem to move, in a humming bird like fashion. The girl tilts her head slightly, and she’s turning away so neither of them can see her expression. But then her locker door is being closed cautiously, and she’s then moving consciously away. Tanaka looks broken, deflated and shaking.

 

“Dam!” Noya cries, any former spy like composure combusting, “I thought you’d really do it this time!” Tanaka looks at the floor guitly as Noya skips over, reaching a hand around and smacking Tanaka square on the shoulders. “aw man, next time, bro— next time for sure.” Timidly Hinata emerges from their previous hiding spot, and his eyes are wide with curiosity.

 

“why do you like her?” Hinata gushes before he can stop himself, studying the figure that sways away. He can’t pick out anyhing definitive about the girl, sure she was pretty but Hinata’s not sure he’s ever seen a girl who was unattractive, most girls had the physical appeal that other boys look for.

 

Noya shares a look with Tanaka before pulling Hinata under his arm, rustling his hair.

“Oh Shouyou,” he begins fondly, “I know this might be hard for you, you being a raving homo and all, but even you must see it.” Hinata blinks, squinting slightly.

 

Nope, still nothing.

 

His oblivious expression speaks louder than words to Tanaka, who distressively announces “Her _legs_ —Hinata-kun—her _legs_!” Noya releases Hinata from his head lock and throws himself against the back of a locker dramatically, clutching his brow. 

 

“ _Incredible_.” the two sigh eerily in sync.

 

 Hinata moves his eyes down, trailing past the hem of her skirt to long, bare, smooth legs. His senpai’s were right, she did have nice legs. They were definitely  long (even if she had rolled her skirt a little to enhance the illusion) and there was definitely something appealing about them. Hinata gnawed at his lip, deep in thought.

 

Did he have nice legs? Kageyama had nice legs— he had curves and dips within in his carves, sometimes the curves would swoop down when he ran and thicken when he’d crouch. Kageyama had nice skin as well, settling over pulsing muscle like an uncreased sheet. 

But did Hinata have nice legs? Mesmerising legs— like the girl?

 

He looked down at his short physique analytically, frowning. He supposed not— there wasn’t much too them. There was no definition, like Kageyama’s, and no cushion like smoothness, as the girl seemed to have. In fact, they were kind of bony. Pretty thin, paper pale skin that was littered with small bruises and scrapes from various schemes. 

 

But boys obviously liked legs, otherwise Tanaka and Noya-san wouldn’t be acting like this, so maybe all legs were nice?

 

Maybe?

 

He stood up straight, oblivious to Tanaka and Noya’s questioning looks, and decided they were all he’s got and it was worth a try. 

 

**_II._ **

 

It’s lunch, and it’s been decided. The bell rings and Hinata stands, chair scraping loudly on the floor. He rises, dramatically, grabbing his rucksack with the force of a thousand men. His friend on the desk next to him watches Hinata cautiously. 

  
“Hinata-san,” he begins, shakily, “aren’t…aren’t you going to eat your lunch?” Hinata spins, a wide chester grin grows on his face at an alarming rate. His eyes shine and he begins to jump on the spot, pulse with some form of terrifying alien energy that makes the poor kid wish he hadn’t even asked. 

 

“I truly am!—” The friend furrows his brow, a little disturbed by the amount of conviction in Hinata’s voice, “—But not here!” Hinata then turns, crouching slightly, and points out the window. The boy follows Hinata’s sight, where a small bench sits empty amongst blossoming trees a few floors below.

 

 “I have a date!” And then he’s out the door, charging with inhuman speed and force. The friend stares in Hinata’s wake, and allows the breath he didn’t even know he was holding pass through his lips. 

 

“Oh no,” another kid sighed, “he’s doing that weird determined thing again.”

 

 

 

Normally, on Tuesday’s, Kageyama would eat lunch alone. On Wednesday’s and Friday’s Hinata would join him in their usual spot, an old rickety bench that sat outside Hinata’s classroom. It lay in a small courtyard where some students chose to leave their bikes, propped in the shade of the old blossom trees. Normally, it was quite empty, the area too out of the way for most to bother to carry lunch over. So normally it lay a safe haven for the two, where Kageyama could inflict physical pain and no teacher would scold him and Hinata could squawk and no one would care. And it was isolated, so Kageyama would go and sit there to eat lunch— with or without Hinata. 

And Hinata can tell by Kageyama’s confused face, swept over with a flicker of curiousity, that he wasn’t expecting too see him there.

 

“It’s Tuesday.” Kageyama states, staring down at Hinata. He looms over him with his lunch box clutched between his fingers. Hinata wiggles his eyebrows at Kageyama, his legs lay outstretched over the seat as he tilts his head back dramatically. Hinata bats his eye lids, and smiles,

innocently. 

 

“I know.” he coos back, purposefully drawing one of his legs upwards. “I wanted too see you.” Kageyama frowns (more).

 

“you’re being weird.”

 

“No I’m not.” Hinata brings a hand down, trailing it over his knee and slowly caressing his own calf.

 

“Just— stretching.” 

 

“Why?”

 

“We have practice later, Im getting—” Hinata throws his leg up in the air violently, “— _ready._ ”

Kageyama just stares, mouth parted, as Hinata slowly rotates his out stretched leg back towards himself, still kept perfectly straight. 

 

Then, Hinata’s head is drawn back again and he’s grinning, something manic in his eyes. 

 

“Practice… is in 4 hours…” Kageyama isn’t too sure what to do, the patternless and caotic movement of Hinata’s legs reminding Kageyama of someone who was having a stroke.

 

Maybe he should take Hinata to the nurse? With actual Spring High itself just around the corner, it would be awful if Hinata suddenly became delusional with that cold he’s been trying to hide and wouldn’t be able to play. 

 

 Kageyama clutches his tray, knuckles whiting, and braves his voice again. “what…. what the hell are you doing?”

 

Hinata, whose outstretched legs seem to be in the middle of doing a ballet esc pivot, stops suddenly. He glares at Kageyama momentarily, and then continues his unnerving display. 

 

“Kageyama we’ve been through this, _I’m stretching._ ”

  
“Hinata you’re being fucking weird,” Kageyama sucks at his bottom lip, “weirder than usual.”

Hinta’s face seems to settle from intensity to hurt, leg lowered ever so slightly. “no I’m not.”

 

“Yes, yes you are.” Hinata scowls, folding his left leg in. His bottom lip trembles slightly, before it sets firmly in place like stone.

 

The two stare ate one another for a moment, Kageyama’s eyes analysing harshly, the way teachers look when they mark Hinata’s homework.

 

And then, with utter force, Hinata throws his leg out once more, higher and longer. It collides with Kageyama’s lunch box with impact, the contents expelling from the plastic as lunch becomes elevated in mid air.

 

For Hinata time stills, the contence suspended in mid air separated from one another, rice free from it’s sauce and it floats. And then his clothes our being pelted with the scolding of hot food seeping from a suspended flask that slips from his head, rice mangles itself in red curls. 

 

He sits their, stunned, covered in Kageyama’s lunch. White shirt totally immersed in orange source, shoulders littered with vegtables. 

 

He looks up slowly at Kageyama.

 

_He’s screwed._

 

 

 

“Hinata, can you just let me in.” Hinata shakes slightly, his feet bunched up on the toilet seat. He’s not crying, because that’s childish, but his cheeks are certainly wet and his mouth keeps threatening to make weird noises. His bare skin brushes against the cool of the toilets back, and his fingers curl at the leg of his boxers. He tries not to flinch at Kageyamas question— well, demand— but his words seem to ice over his shivering skin like water. 

This was pathetic, embarrassing— no wait, mortifying—the heat of shame seemed to prick feeling into his cold skin. 

 

“I’ve seen you naked before- we get changed in the same club room! Can you just open the door— you dumbass.” Kageyama banged against the cubical door, a half feeble attempt to get a response out of Hinata. 

 

The boys bathroom was cold for such a mild day, over vented and air conditioned with little insulation. Hinata sat curled on the toilet seat glumly, his stained clothes frown carelessly to the floor. It was freezing, and shivers escalated his body with the compulsions of shame. He clings to himself harder. Hinata’s eyes are squeezed tightly as he tries to shut out the humiliation. Luckily, Noya-san didn’t live far away. (which was also gut wrenching— since Kageyama had to ask their shorter senpai to run home and get Hinata some spair uniform— and even then he was a clothes size up than him, because _that’s how embarrassingly skinny Hinata is_ ) so he probably wouldn’t have to wait helplessly in the cubical much longer.

 

But, Hinata could literally die and it would be fine. 

 

“I’m not mad.” Kageyama mutters, in a tone that makes him sound like he’s mad. “Can you just let me in?” Silence only follows, and Kageyama sucks in a shuddering breath. “Let me in, Shouyou.”

A small, squeeky noise erupts from inside the stall, with a few shocked snuffles. Hinata clutches his nose, eyes wide, mortified.

 

That was the most pathetic sneeze of all time. He then sniffs louder than he wanted too, dabbing at his nostrils with toilet paper. 

 

Kageyama sighs loudly from the other side of the door, the sound of shuffling echoing in the empty bathroom. Hinata looks up, battering away another strange leak from his eyes (still not crying) and tilts his head. Kageyama’s school jacket dangles from his hand at the top of the door. 

He reaches out and snatches it, his cold skin brushing the warmth of Kageyama’s knuckles. 

Hinata draws the jacket over his shaking shoulders, nuzzling his face in the softness. The smell of Kageyama surrounds him, engulfing him and slowly trailing it’s way up his nose. 

 

He sighs into the comforting fabric, letting it’s warmth sadose him a bit.

 

Kageyama takes in another breath.

 

“dumbass.” he mutters. 

 

**_III_ **

 

Hinata glares up at the large poster of _Aqua Man_ that takes up the majority of his cealing. His controller lies beside him, abandoned, as Hinata allows himself to drown in ‘deep philosophical thought’. 

 

‘Deep Philosophical Thought’ being his current situation, of course. 

 

Suddenly his most treasured poster, the life size _Aqua Man_ one, seems to only further remind him of how childish he is. When Kageyama had came round his house for the first time, his immediate thought was to snort at Hinata’s gigantic poster, toss his duffle bag onto the bed and tell him that “Aqua Man is the worst Super Hero of all time, stupid.” The comment seemed to shine a new light on Kageyama, and what kind of person he was. It occurred Hinata that Kageyama at least knew enough about Super Hero’s to be able to identify Aqua Man, and comment on him as a character. Even if Kageyama was Wrong, it had stabbed a weird twinge in Hinata’s heart to know that Kageyama wasn’t just a walking volleyball death machine— but a walking volleyball death machine who _obviously_ had a bad taste in super heroes. 

 

Now, however, Hinata had begun to question himself. After all, it was becoming abundently clear that Hinata was, perhaps, not as mature as he thought he was. Shame lurches in his stomach as remembers the cool press of bathroom tiles, stained clothes littering the stall floor. 

 

 Apparently, he lacked some sort of insight, or experience, that put him a beat behind the rest— and maybe a lousy and babyish taste in super hero’s wasn’t helping his situation. Although, it’s not like he can actually reach his cealing to tare down the poster, anyways, so for now Aqua Man was staying where he was.  

 

His phone which lay next to his controller vibrated angrily, reluctantly pulling Hinata from his thoughts. He flips it open, with a message from Kenma. 

 

_Shouyou, your character hasn’t moved for 5 minutes._

 

Kenma’s not wrong, _Lucio_ hasn’t moved from the middle of the map, where about 5 opposite team members swarm Hinata’s Lucio with hit after hit. There’s a stream of angry messages in the left hand corner from other people playing, frustrated that _NextLittleGiant_ hasn’t moved or done anything to help move the payload. 

 

He sighs, picking up the controller reluctantly with his left hand and typing a reply to Kenma with his right. 

 

_srry,_ he tries to type, almost dropping his controller, _wa s think in_

 

He frowns at his TV screen, as one rude player tells Hinata he’s more useless when he’s moving than when he was staying still, some desperately trying to remind him that’s he’s playing support and therefore should probably be in bounds of the people he needs to heal. He’s about to type out a rather hefty insult back ( _yeah, well u suc)_ when his phone buzzed again. 

 

_About? Game strategy?_

 

Hinata hums, staring at his phone and randomly button smashing with his controller. He contemplates telling Kenma about his current problem, and seeming how Hinata is running thin on people who would probably at least pretend to listen, he finds himself hitting dial. 

 

“ _Shouyou?”_ Kenma answers, not particularly sounding surprised, but not uninterested either. 

 

“Kenma, I have a question.”

 

“ _…Okay.”_

 

_“_ So, you know how me and Kageyama are a… _thing_ right?”

 

“ _Yes, you’ve told me before._ ”

 

“Yeah well, we’re having a problem.” 

 

“ _Shouyou, I’m probably not the best person to talk to about this._ ”

 

“But you _have_ to be,” Shouyou whines, kicking his sheets in frustration, “you’re the only guy I know whose dating another _guy_.” He hears Kenma shuffle, Hinata able to picture the awkward way Kenma shrinks in on himself when he becomes embaressed. 

 

“ _You promised you wouldn’t tell anyone about me and Kuro.”_ Kenma mumbles from the other side of the line. 

 

“And I haven’t!” Hinata protests loudly, “but I _still_ need some guidance. Please, Kenma, you’re my only hope.”

 

“ _Don’t think you can charm me with Star Wars quotes, Shouyou._ ” 

 

“Okay fine, but please at least try and help me.” He hears a defeated sigh.

 

“ _On your left.”_

 

“Whah?”

 

“ _On your left, there’s a Tracer on your— oh never mind. I’ll get it.”_ Hinata turns his attention back to the screen to see Kenma’s _Genji_ quickly leap from its hiding place and slash at the _Tracer_ which had just appeared in front of Hinata. 

 

“Oh, thank you!”

 

“ _It’s fine. What did you want to ask?”_

 

“Have you and Kuroo-san ever done anything? Like in, you know, _that sort of way._ ” There’s a beat of silence on the other line, and for one moment Hinata thinks Kenma’s hung up.

 

“ _That was… blunt, Shouyou.”_ ”

 

“Well have you?” 

 

“ _Maybe… sort of… once or twice…”_ Hinata sits up rigged, pulsed with excitment. 

 

“Really? And how did you do that?”

 

“ _I… I don’t really… want to discuss technique with you…_ ”

 

“No! I mean how did you get to that point.” 

 

“ _Oh,”_ Kenma states, with what Hinata suspects is a sigh of relief, “ _Kuro asked if stuff was okay and I would say yes or no.”_

 

Hinata flops back down, feeling deflated. 

 

“We’re not even at that stage yet, though.” Hinata groans, and slams a button down so Lucio uses his dubstep gun to take out two Tracer’s at once. 

 

“ _That was good, Shouyou._ ”

 

“Whatever, it doesn’t matter. Nothing matters.” There’s another tiny sigh from Kenma’s end, and more ruffling of sheets. 

 

“ _There was… one thing_ ”

 

“Yes?” Hinata whispers, clutching at his phone. “Tell me Kenma.”

 

“ _Sometimes we’d… text, stuff. Because Kuro knew I found it… easier than talking in person. “_

 

_“_ So, let me get this straight. Sometimes, you would text. That’s your advice?”

 

“ _No. Stuff, Shouyou. Stuff.”_ Hinata’s throat goes dry, his tongue tapping at his lips. 

 

_Oh._

 

Hinata draws the phone closer, suddenly for the first time that night fearing he might be overheard. 

 

“And…?”

 

There’s another loud death sound from his computer, and the game finally ends. Unsurprisingly , his team had lost, even though _applepi_ playing as Genji  had been chosen as player of the game. 

 

“ _And it’s okay… I guess… sometimes. It’s mainly irritating.”_

 

“Does, does Kuroo-san try it a lot, then?” He hears, this time, a much more potent groan from Kenma’s end. 

 

“ _He does it_ obsessively, _even for him.”_ Hinata hears the faint slam of a door on Kenma’s side of the line, and a much heavier rustle of sheets, the creak of a bed frame. 

 

“ _Whose obsessive, Kenma? Who are you talking too?”_ Hinata freezes, hearing the faint hum of what he can almost certainly identify is Kuroo-san’s voice. 

 

“ _You.”_ Kenma replies shamelessly. He then hears Kenma whine and more shuffling, followed by another “ _Who are you talking too? Hey is that— is that chibi-chan? Lemme talk to him. N-n give me the phone, I wanna talk to him. I’ll be nice— ow Kenma that hurts.”_

 

Hinata has never hit the hung up button faster or harder in his life. He drops his phone, as if it’s burnt him, and cowers away. 

 

Then, once he’s sure Kuroo couldn’t leap out of the phone and murder him (he is, after all, terrifying.) Hinata cautiously pinches the flip phone between his finger and thumb. After a few more moments, Hinata slowly starts typing a message. 

 

**_Hey, kageyama, hows it going?_ **

 

He sends. It’s cool. It’s casual. It’s totally him. Nothing about that text should get his heart pounding. 

 

Yet, he still jumps and squeaks when the phone vibrates in his hand. 

 

_What do you want, dumbass, it’s almost 1 in the morning._

 

Hinata takes a calming breath. He’s never used pick up lines before, but he’s got a good one that he once heard Noya-san use. And it should really get the mood going. 

 

**_Help the homeless._ **

 

_What?_

 

**_I said help the homeless, kageyama._ **

 

_What? now? it’s super late._

 

**_Tkae me home._ **

 

_u r home._

 

**_with u_ **

 

_what_

 

**_help the homeless and take me home_ **

 

_for fuck sakes hinata you are home_

 

**_no, with you!!Q!!!!!!!_ **

 

_what r u saying???_

 

**_help!!! the!!! homelesss!!!! stup id kageyama!!!1111!!!!_ **

 

_you are NOT homeless_

 

**_yes. i AM!!!!_ **

 

_No youre not. . literally i can see your location. i can just click on your locaiton. i have locations turned on you are not homeless_

 

**_i might nb!!! take me home with you_ **

 

_we’re not even with each other wtff_

 

**_OKAY FINE NM_ **

 

_WHY ARE YOU TEXT SHOUTING AT ME, DUMBASS_

 

**_NO WHAT IT’S FINE SHITTYAMA_ **

 

_DONT CALL ME SHITTYAMA. YOURE ONLY SAYING THAT BECAUSE YOU HEARD IWAIZUMI SENPAI SAY IT ONCE. ABOUT OIKAWA YOURE NOT CLEVER_

 

**_FINE. I GUESS I’LL JUST MARRY IWAIZUMI_ **

 

_WHAT??? WHY???_

 

**_BECAUSE HE HAS. N ICE ARMS. A AND A KIND HEART._ **

 

_WHATEVER. MAYBE I’LL MARRY HIM BECAUSE HE’S A BETTER VOLLEYBALL PLAYER THAN U ARE._

 

**_THAT IS SO R UDE. AND UNCLAEED FOR._ **

 

_YOURE THE ONE LYING ABOUT BEING HOMELESS._

 

**_altthou, it could be a good revenage plan against the grand king_ **

 

_what, if i married iwaizumi senpai?_

 

**_yeh. that wuld nock him down a peg_ **

 

_true._

 

Now that Hinata had changed the atmosphere of the text, he decides to try again.

**_Hey, kageyama_ **

 

_what_

 

**_youre invited to my party_ **

 

_what party?????_

 

**_the pants party_ **

 

_wtf is a pants party_

 

**_no the pants paty. youre invited_ **

 

_what are you even saying. what is wiv u tonite go to bed_

 

**_no youre invited to my pants party. its especially 4 u._ **

 

_i dont want to come_

 

**_what????? why no!!!!!_ **

 

_sounds boring. idk what a pants party is_

 

**_well!!!! you should come!!!_ **

 

_y_

 

**_because its MY pants party!!!!!!!_ **

 

_no_

 

**_yes_ **

 

_no_

 

**_yes_ **

 

_no_

 

**_yES_ **

 

_NO_

 

**_YES_ **

 

_SHUT UP_

 

**_YOU SHUT UP_ **

 

_STUPID DUMBASS GO TO BED YOURE BEING WEIRD AND CONFUSING_

 

**_fine._ **

 

Hinata slams his phone down on the floor, and shoves a pillow over his head. He doesn’t even bother turning his bed side light out, allowing  it’s tormenting flicker to tease his irritation and give him a reason not to sleep, besides his weirdly wet face. 

 

**_IV_ **

 

“Have you tried talking to him, Hinata?” Hinata cocks his head sideways and raises a sceptical brow. Suga sighs and dives further into his locker “don’t look at me like that, you’ve spent far to much time with Tanaka.” Hinata lets out a heavy sigh. 

 

“What about just being yourself, have you tried that either?” Hinata looked up at Suga as he retrieved books from his locker. 

 

“But that’s the problem Suga-san!” Hinata half wails, leaning against Suga in a dramatic fashion, “being myself means I’m not being— you know— _attractive_.” Hinata could feel Suga tense at his words, hurridly shoving books into his bag. 

 

“Hinata,” Suga’s voice was low and cautious as he closes his locker slowly, “have you ever considered that maybe you’re not ready?” Hinata puffed lightly and shifted away from Suga, fidgeting with the edge of his school jumper irritably. He trailed his gaze to the floor, frowning.

“It’s not a bad thing, to not be ready.” Suga crouched to Hinata’s level, putting a hand on the younger boys shoulder and tilting his head upwards. Hinata averted his gaze from Suga’s warm, tentive eyes and focussed on something less pressing and endearing. 

 

“When you’re ready, you’re ready.” Suga’s voice echoes Kageyama’s in the same caring, altruistic tone that suited Suga so well. And yet, in that second, it had also fitted Kageyama.

 

He struggles out of Suga’s grip and keeps his gaze fixated on the floor. Suga only sighs in his mother like tone, straightening up. 

 

“Come on,” Suga urged gently, “or we’ll be late for practice.”

 

Hinata didn’t regret his decision in confiding in Suga, in fact it felt a weight off his shoulders. Suga hadn’t laughed, he hadn’t poked fun at him, but he hadn’t helped him either. Which Hinata guessed made sense, since he doubted Suga would have encouraged that kind of thing. But it wasn’t even that Suga didn’t want Kageyama and Hinata to do those sort of things— his concern was that Hinata wasn’t _able_.

 

It was like they were acting as if Hinata was trying to perform some complicated spike, much too advanced for his rookie level. Everyone he’d spoken to this about (so be it only two people, excluding Kenma who just wanted to hang up as soon as possible) had brushed off his desires, not even trying to discourage him from having them— because they all just presumed he didn’t even _understand_ them. 

 

“Noya-san!” Hinata called out hurridly, jogging slightly to catch up with him from across the corridor. He left Suga to trail behind and shoved a fist into his own rucksack. Noya watched him curiously as Hinata gingerly retrieved a set of folded clothing. Hinata bowed low, arms out stretched, twitching from embarrassment. “I- I have these for you.” Noya cocked his head, brow furrowed. He then grinned and slapped Hinata, hard, on the back. “Thank you, Shouyou!” He snatched the clothing out of Hinata’s limp grip as Hinata wheezed, staggerring from the impact of the hit. “You washed them!” Noya declared happily, nose burried in crinckling fabric. “and they smell good! Nice!” 

 

“My mum washed them,” Hinata mumbled, rubbing the soar of his back. Tsukishima and Yamaguchi lurked up from the other end of the corridor, sharing a look between the two of them. 

 

“Why do you have his clothes, anyways?” Tsukishma’s eyes glared over the exchange with that frightening look he does. 

 

“Hinata pissed himself.” Noya declared cheerfully, grinning ear to ear,  breath hitching into uncontrollable laughter.

 

Hinata gaps, ears pinking as blood rushed to the heat of his cheeks. His mouth hung open and gaping, making a startled noise.

 

“Noya-San why would you say something like that?!!!” He wails, Tsukishma’s glare stretching into that sinister smile and Yamaguchi shook with tittering. Hinata felt hopeless, drowning in humiliation that floods from their laughter. 

 

“I’m sorry Shouyou, I’m sorry.” Noya chokes out, patting Hinata on the back lighter this time. Hinata flinches, trying not to let hurt etch into his shocked expression. “it was just too good to resist.”

Hinata’s mouth hangs again as he waits to gather words, to try and dig himself out of a pit of despair.

 

“It was my fault.” Kageyama’s voice was stiff and bleak. He stood in the door way leading out to the court yard, expression matching his tone. “I tripped and accidentally threw food over Hinata yesterday at lunch.” He didn’t look at Hinata, only glaring torridly at Tsukishma, whom smirked back. 

 

“Sorry, Hinata.” Although he says his name, he didn’t really look at him, and didn’t really address the apology at him either. Tsukishma’ only clicked his tong, pushing the door on Kageyama’s right open. He turned a look over at Hinata, drinking in his flushed expression. Then laughed weakly and shook his head. 

 

“Always can count on the king to rescue his damsel.” Hinata felt his cheeks darken and his blood boil in the heat. He clutched his fists, physically shaking from the eruption that trembled inside him. 

“Come on, Yamaguchi.” Tsukishma barked, and Yamaguchi gave Hinata a small and endearing smile, which always said _sorry about him,_ and then scurried after Tsukishima. Hinata stood still, trembling. 

 

“Ignore him.” Kageyama practically commanded, Noya nodding his head in frantic agreement.  
“Yeah— he’s got an extra long poll stuck up his ass today.” Noya rushed to comfort, but Hinata didn’t respond. He was staring in the spot Tsukishma had stood, and tried not to combust when Kageyama and Noya shared a look.

 

Hinata glared foward, eyes set. 

 

Practice became painful, disjointed, in what can only be fairly described in moments. Hianta was off, sweating after a few seconds, out of focus within a few tosses. He didn’t want to admit defeat, but he could feel it sweep against his knees, knocking into his stomach as he hit the floor after his third missed toss. He picked himself up onto his elbows, fist banged against the floor. 

_This is stupid_ , he thought as he climbed unsteadily to his feet. Every expression Tsukishima made, even though it seemed so small and insignificant on his poker face, somehow was loud and vibrant. The cock of his eyebrow egged him on more than any insult could, and the shake of his shoulders as he sniggered sent electrictiy up his spine.

 

He was pratcially shivering form hatred and exhaustion—and just when Tsukishima was beginning to grow on him—, the efforts of this week hailing down on his back like bags of sand. 

“Hinata,” Daichi called as he ran over towards him “maybe you should sit out for a while, you seem a tad…” Daichi taps a water bottle on his chin, sturggling for words before finally setteling on “distant.” Hinata grumbles his appologies and stomps off to the sidelines, making sure not to meet Kageyama’s eyes as his gaze traces over the smaller.

 

He collapses into a seat next to Ukai, who cocks his head in interest, wearing that expression which makes Hinata think he’s going to say something. But he never does, only turns his focus back onto the players still in action, whilst Hinata hides his shame from beneath the shadow of a towel. 

 

Hinata’s not sure it’s a good thing that the tingle of humilation was becoming a familiar sensation on the back of his neck, and the prick of frustrated tears in his eyes makes him feel truly pathetic. Why was this all going so wrong? Why couldn’t he focus? Hinata wasn’t even sure if this was about proving Kageyama wrong anymore, and more just about proving himself in general. It felt as if Hinata’s innocence was being personally investigated by the private detective force of Karasuno, whom were all rapidly approaching the conclusion that Hinata’s mental understanding of this sort of stuff was around the age range of _seven._

 

Why though? Why did literally everyone turn and look at him and think _oh look, there’s a dude whose probably never had the birds and the bees talk, even though he’s the same age as me and perhaps even older and if not older only younger by a couple of months but obviously because he’s 5”3 he’s like twelve, even though most children receive the talk at eleven—_ Hinata has a little sister, for goodness sakes! He _knows where blasted babies come from—_

 

“Oi, I can literally hear you thinking.” Hinata jumps at the sound of Ukai voice— _oh yeah sure now he decides to speak—_ and turns towards his sceptical expression. He winces slightly out of embaressment and grumbles a half hearted appology. 

 

“I don’t know what’s up, but could you maybe work it out _without_ assulting the poor water bottle? We only have a limited number of them and a limited budget, ya know.” Hinata blinks down at the waterbottle he’s apparently been squeezing for the last couple of minutes. 

 

“Oh. Yeah, sorry.” Ukai crosses his arms and leans back with a large sigh, still eyeing Hinata. “so, what is wrong, it’s unusual for you to get so wound up about something in the real world that it interferes with your—volley world.” Hinata shrugs, still glaring ahead at the court. He watches as Tsukishima blocks another one Tanaka’s spike and Tanaka snaps in frustration, Kageyama awkwardly trying to console. 

 

His gaze is obviously not very subtle, because Ukai snorts and comments “trouble in paradise, huh?” Hinata scowls and draws his towel further over his face to hide his embarrassment. Ukai only chuckles lightly. 

 

“I’m teasing you, Hinata. I’m sure whatever’s going on between you and Kageyama can be fixed,” he pauses for a second and adds curtly “with good communication and _not_ like last time.” Hinata only huffs in response. He’s unsure if anyone else has, you know, actually noticed that Kageyama is a milk drinking brick wall, because everyone seems to have the bright idea of just _talking_ to Kageyama about his feelings. As if it was that simple. What ever happened to the expression ‘actions speak louder than words’

 

“What do you two even fight about, anyways?” Ukai continues, more talking to himself than Hinata at this point. “Besides volleyball, like what is there even to fight over. Is this about volleyball? I can’t help but feel like it’s not because Kageyama keeps glancing over here all remorse and sort of irritated looking. So that, too me, suggests whatever you’re arguing over is not a volleyball thing because he wants you back on the court.” Ukai scratches his chin, “I think he looks _worried._ That’s what that weird expression is— concern.” Hinata doesn’t bother to look up and examine Kageyama’s expression himself. Good. Kageyama should be worried. Kageyama should be fearful for his life, because Hinata is going to think of—think of _something_ and that will make Kageyama feel things he’s never felt before, all flustered and hot and stuff, he just has to think of _what it is_ and finally _beat him._

 

Hinata blinks. Is that what this is all about? His desperate need to be better than Kageyama? He ponders a moment, and a weird pang in his chest tells him no, it’s not that simple. There’s some deeper meaning to it, as well, one that Asahi probably could explain to him if he’d let Hinata borrow one of his shoujo mangas that he thinks people don’t know about. 

 

Apparently Ukai is having his own revelations as he suddenly stiffens next to Hinata. “Oh my god,” he whispers, turning to look at him face on “Hinata is this, is this a — _sexual thing?!_ ” Hinata blinks in surprise, opens his mouth, and then shuts it, a “gawah” sound of fear escaping his lips. 

 

The two stare each other down a moment before Ennoshita calls out from across the gym “Coach Ukai, could you come help?”, thankfully breaking the terrifying, interrogating gaze. Hinata breathes a sigh of relief as Ukai quickly pushes himself off the bench. He turns back to Hinata, still half dazed looking himself, and breathes out: “this—this discussion isn’t over! We’re having a talk, of some sorts, maybe. Or at least you and Sugawara are. You’re not getting— nope.” and then turns abruptly on his heel and starts stomping off towards Ennoshita. 

 

Hinata scowls, for like the millionth time feeling unconditionally angry and provoked. 

 

“And _stop_ assulting the water bottle!” 

 

He stares down at the plastic he is yet again squeezing, eyeing it carefully. He turns it around in his hands almost obscenely, analysing it’s black marking and yellow shell as if it held the answers to the universe. 

 

And in some ways, it does. 

 

A wave of anger, frustration and determination washes over Hinata, crashing into him like a tidal force. Never before in his life has he needed to prove himself more, never before has he needed to show others that he can damn well do it more than in this very moment. The same awful andrenaline pulses through him like their first aboa johsai match, and their last for that matter, the need to show people like Oikawa that they’re wrong about him. That he can do this. That he does belong here. 

 

And godamn Hinata knows what a boner is and he _is going to get Kageyama to look at him in that-sort-of-way if it’s the last thing he does._

 

Hinata places the bottle to his lips, and allows his tongue to dart out around it’s tip. 

 

 

Kageyama is the first to notice, and when he catches it out of the corner of his eye, he drops the ball in shock. The ball hits to the ground with a loud and echoing thud, rolling away. Nishinoya frowns and rises from his crouching position. 

 

“Oi, Kageyama, focus!” He waves a hand to try and get Kageyama’s attention, but Kageyama is too far gone. So instead he follows his gaze, and also stares on in shock. Noya choses to stand beside Kageyama and stare instead. 

 

“Uh…” Kageyama cringes at the sound of Noya’s voice, suffering an awful case of second hand embarrassment. 

 

“Kageyama… is he… okay?” Kageyama isn’t sure if his voice is working, which is probably for the best because he’s not really sure of the answer, either. 

 

So the two stare on, jaws slacked and both stiff from the tense and awkward display. It’s not long till Tsukishima wonders over, clasping the ball in between his fingers. At first Tsukishima wears a smirk and jumps at the opportunity to tease Noya and Kageyama for looking—well, stupid— until he follows their gaze. Tsukishima follows suit and tenses up as well. 

 

None of the three speak, they just stare on over at Hinata, who has the curtsy to swing his legs childishly as he strokes his tongue up the shaft of the water bottle,  teasing away leaking droplets of water around the edges. It may have come across as obscene and plane out dirty if Hinata’s face wasn’t screwed up in concentration and what can only be described as determination. 

 

Tsukishima grimaces as Noya scratches his chin curiously, watching as Hinata does a rather large lick. Kageyama just groans and slaps a hand over his face. 

 

“This is all my fault.” he muffles from behind his hand, face heating up. 

 

“Well, obviously.” Tsukishima grunts, “I don’t think anyone else could make Hinata act that strangely. And this is weird, even for Hinata.” 

 

Noya tugs desperately at Kageyama’s sleeve, on his tip toes so he can shout in Kageyema’s face. “Can you make him stop? Please? Before Asahi sees and cries?” 

 

Kageyama sighs defeatedly, dropping his hands and hanging his head in shame. “I wish I knew how.” he declares lamely. 

 

The three continue to stare at Hinata, his mouth now sliding over the tip of the water bottle, humming lightly. 

 

“The worst part is, he thinks he’s being casual about this.” Tsukishima comments. 

 

“Hey guys, everything oka—oh my.” Suga strolls over and stops dead, staring at the ensemble  that the other three watch in horror. 

 

“It’s my fault. I apologise on his behalf.” Kageyama turns to look at Suga, defeated. Hinata practically inhales half the bottle in his mouth, almost chokes, spits it out, catches his breath, and then continues to send suggestive kisses down the bottles spine. 

 

“No, no this might be my fault. He came to ask me for advice today before practice, and, well I wasn’t very helpful.” Sugawara scratches awkwardly at the back of his neck “I think he’s very worried and apprehensive about the more physical side of your relationship.”

 

“No shit.” Noya snorts. 

 

Suga places a comforting hand on the back of Kageyama’s shoulders. “I think Hinata is worried that you don’t find him attractive, Kageyama. And, well, you of all people probably know what it’s like to feel a little—” Suga waves his hand around, searching for words “— rejected, and alone. Hinata probably isn’t always as confident as he seems, especially about the unknown.” 

 

Tsukishima scoffs as Hinata does another very suggestive and awkward lick. “Are you sure about that?” 

 

“Very.” Suga gives one of his firm pats and edges Kageyama forward, “I think it’s best if the two of you maybe go and talk this out.” Kageyama stares forward in fright, eyes glazed over in sheer terror. He has no idea at all how to approach this situation. 

 

Kageyama shuffles a few steps forward before Suga reaches out and pulls him backwards slightly, passive aggressively hissing in his ear “and I mean _talking. Just talking._ ” before giving him another push forward with a friendly grin. 

 

Kageyama visibly gulps, pushes his sweatshirt sleeve up and marches forward. He reaches Hinata probably a little sooner than he’d wanted to, and ends up towering over the other. Hinata blinks up, his tongue outstretched as he was mid way sliding it along the bottom of the watter bottle. He gazes up at Kageyama, acorn eyes wide and waiting. 

 

Kageyama roughly grasps the top of Hinata’s t-shirt and mumbles a rough, “come on, you dumbass,” and drags him out towards the gyms double doors. He passes Daichi who talks lowly with Suga, eyeing them carefully as Hinata squawks profoundly. Ukai doesn’t stop Kageyama either, only cocks an eyebrow and has that ‘we’ll talk about this later’ kind of look on his face. 

 

Kageyama doesn’t need to turn around to know that Tsukishima’s smirk has probably recovered. 

 

 

When they’re outside behind the gym, Kageyama gruffly forces Hinata against the wall. Hinata makes a huffing noise as Kageyama sticks his nose out from behind the wall, making sure no one would be likely to pass by and catch them. Once he’s sure that no ones coming, Kageyama turns back to Hinata with an awful scowl.

 

“What?” Hinata spits, standing up as tall and straight as he can, his arms crossed over his chest. “Is there something you’d like to _say_ Kageyama?” 

 

Kageyama blinks at him, seemingly a loss for words. He’s never, in his life, had to dealt with a situation like this before, and even alone there seems to be no easy way of approaching it. 

 

“What is with you?” Kageyama snarls, exasperated in tone. Hinata properly scoffs at him, waving his arms around in that over dramatic and sort of endearing way of his. 

 

“What is with _me?_ What is with _me?_ Oh, oh. What is _not_ with me is properly a better question.” Kageyama’s brow furrows, although his displeased expression doesn’t falter. He hears the echo of Suga’s words in the back of his head, desperately scraping the edges of his mind to take the sensitive, and kind approach Hinata probably needs. 

 

But Kageyama isn’t sensitive, and he’s been told once or twice that he isn’t kind either. And he’s never talked to Hinata like that before, and he’s unsure that being in a relatonship means that he has to start now. Especially since it’s the nature of their relationship, and understanding of one another, is what brought them here in the first place. 

 

So Kageyama bends forward so his face is in inches away from Hinata’s, glaring. Hinata tries to keep is face straight as well, physically straining not to shrink back on instinct. 

 

“Stop being insecure.” He demands. Hinata stares back, shocked for a second, before his expression hardens. 

 

“I’m not insecure! Stupid Kageyama!” He gives Kageyama’s chest a small shove, and Kageyama grunts in response. 

 

“Yes you are.”

“No I’m not.”

 

“Yes you are.”

 

“ _No. I’m Not!”_ Hinata swipes his foot down, aiming for Kageyama’s shin, who is able to gracefully remove it just in time. Instead he ends up bending his knee and trapping Hinata in place, pressing it up against the wall inline with Hinata’s torso. He hisses at the smaller boy, gritting his teeth in frustration.

 

“Then what has the past couple of days been about then, huh?” He pinches at Hinata’s hair gruffly, and then softens his palm so it rests against the tousle of red. Hinata crains his neck into the touch, shying away from it once he realises what he’s done. It’s a much more gentler touch than either one is used too, Kageyama slowly sliding his hand down from Hinata’s hair until it rests on the back of his neck. His thumb gently traces the dips of Hinata’s throat, the setting suns escaping orange catching in the shadows of Hinata’s exposed collar bones. 

 

Hinata tilts his head slightly, bearing more fresh skin along his throat, with faint lips parted. Kageyama doesn’t think they’d be particularly soft to kiss right now, since Hinata was awful at taking care of himself. Now that winter is coming, Kageyama found himself more frequently shoving lip balm in Hinata’s small hands when their faces got too close. 

 

With autumn also brought it’s ever present chill, causing the breath between them to sit in faint white clouds. Hinata’s breath seemed to be pouring from his mouth, chest heaving and heart probably pounding. His eyes are so wide, and so wonderfully hazel in the dimming light, like orbs of chessnut light. Kageyama hates the way his hands seem to trace Hinata’s collarbones unconsciously, or maybe desperately. He’s not really sure. 

 

Finally, forcefully, he snaps a hand back and grips at Hinata’s shoulder for support, or maybe he’s just scared Hinata will run away. 

 

“Maybe, I’m a little insecure.” Hinata finally mumbles, snapping his head down almost guiltily. “I just want you too…” he doesn’t finish, and instead tugs at his jersy uncomfortablly. 

 

“Too want you?” Kageyama finishes for him. Still not looking, Hinata nods. 

 

“And what if I told you…. I do, want you?” Hinata’s head shoots up shamelessly, and Kageyama drops his arm and turns away from Hinata in a swift movement. He already feels heat hit his chilled cheeks, rubbing his cold hands together. “In that kind of way.” he finishes quickly. 

 

“Then, if that’s true. Why don’t you tell me that? Why do you always stop when we do stuff, and make it seem like I’m just some dumb annoying kid?”

 

“But you _are_ just some dumb, annoying kid.” He feels a firm hand on his shoulder, pulling him back to face Hinata. His face is now inches from Kageyama’s, eyebrows drawn in and mouth tilting. 

 

“Well, so are you!” 

 

“Obviously, dumbass! That’s the problem!” Hinata’s grip loosens, as if he’s shocked. He even drops his small hand, staring at the frustrated Kageyama in front of him. Kageyama growls and tugs at his own strands of hair. 

 

“Can’t you see? I have no idea what I’m doing either, dumbass. How can I be there for you, to try and guide you through this stuff if I don’t know what I’m doing, either? How can I help when I don’t know _how_ to help. It doesn’t mean I don’t want too.” Kageyama slams the palm of his hand against the wall, defeated. Hinata is still standing, motionless.

 

“Oh.” Hinata finally says. And then he’s a blur of movement, hovering around Kageyama from all angles.

 

“But Kageyama, you don’t have to guide me through this! Oi, Kageyama!” Hinata bounces from Kageyama’s left to his right, still flapping his arms for attention. 

 

“We can do it together, Kageyama. Like we always do. You don’t have to _get_ everything better than I do all the time.” 

 

Kageyama finally catches Hinata’s jersey in his hand, fed up with the constant movement. He sighs and runs a hand through his hair.

 

“Yeah, I get it. But maybe I wanted too.” Kageyama feels Hinata’s hands move across the goose bumping skin across his arms and elbow. 

 

“Yeah but, I wanted to be sexy, and we all saw how well that went.” Kageyama looks at Hinata, properly this time, drinking in his soft features and his shy smile. It does that weird thing to his stomach again, making his legs feel like they can’t support him and his arms like jelly. 

 

Kageyama mutters something, practically inaudible. 

 

“What did you say, Kageyama? I didn’t hear that.” Hinata cups his ear comically, and Kageyama scowls again. 

 

“I said you are sexy, dumbass.” Kageyama loosens his grip on Hinata’s jersey and presses his head against the cool wall. “at least, you are to me.”

 

There’s a beat of silence, until Hinata finally replies, “Wow, Kageyama. Never say that again. That was so awkward” 

 

“Shut up, Shouyou.” he spits back, glancing over his shoudler. Hinata’s cheeks have pinked considerably now, and finally the two turn to each other, breaths much heavier in the cold air. 

 

Hinata reaches out a hand, patterning Kageyama’s grip on his own jersey and pulling him slightly closer. There’s a pang in Kageyama’s chest, which he hopes Hinata gets too, as their mouths sit inches apart. His touch feels weird and sensitive, even if it’s only Hinata’s knuckles brushing against the small span of skin across his chest. Hinata gulps and Kageyama licks his dry lips, desperate for some sort of feeling when everything is so numb, huge eyes bearing into his.

 

He knows they’re going to kiss, and there’s some excitement in the idea that they might not stop. Might not be able to stop now that all cards are finally, _finally,_ on the table. He even lets his left hand, the one not clutching at Hinata’s clothing for dear life, to travel carefully down the arch of Hinata’s back. He rests it at the small, pulling Hinata closer into his embrace, trying to awkwardly angle the shorter so he doesn’t feel the uncomfortable stuff that’s going on… _down there._

 

There lips are really going to meet, and Kageyama knows that whatever happens this is really going to go further. And for once he’s wrapped in the moment, not even caring who catches them, not even having the curtiousy to worry about his performance, or dissapointing Hinata.

 

And for once, Hinata doesn’t feel self conscious. 

 

There’s a loud slam and a pang of pain jumps down Kageyama’s spine, blossoming from the back of his head. He yelps, leaps back and scowls accusingly at Hinata. 

 

But Hinata is as white as a sheep, pointing hopelessly behind him. Kageyama turns, the echo of a volley ball loud like gunshot in the silent ally. His face reddens hidelously when he sees Sugawara, crouching down to scoop up the rolling volleyball. He straightens, with a deadly smile and a small wave of his hand. 

 

“ _There_ you two are!” He sings, sinisterly. Suga’s normally brown, kind eyes glow a deadly flame in the dark. “This doesn’t look like just _talking,_ does it?” He practically hisses. Suga makes a step forward, Kageyama gripping at Hinata’s arm. 

 

“Run.” Kageyama whispers, and without even thinking Hinata takes off with Kageyama close at his heals. They make it half way down the length of the gymnasium when Daichi steps out, sporting a matching sinster grin and blocking their only other escape. 

 

“Kageyama. Hinata.” He greets, same venomous tone. “Me and Sugawara think this is a _great_ time to have a chat.” 

 

The two freeze, clutching each others hands for dear life. 

 

Hinata doesn’t think he’ll ever want to do those sort of things again. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm akaakeji on tumblr and twitter, hmu


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